


Open When I'm Gone

by Rhensis



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Children, Death, Engagement, Existentialism, Future, M/M, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 22:46:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3586815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhensis/pseuds/Rhensis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>So he writes.</i><br/>He writes until he starts to run out of ideas. He writes to tell Dan how to deal with how short the time is they currently get to spend together, he writes to give Dan help on the bad days, he writes to help Dan sleep, he writes to help if they ever fight, he writes to remedy Dan’s fears of the future, he writes to tell Dan the thousands of things that he loves about him, he writes to ask Dan to marry him.<br/>sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/1434766">Open When You Need To Know How Much I Love You</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Open When I'm Gone

He knows that life is fragile.

He’s seen too much death to think otherwise. Well, perhaps that’s a bit of an overstatement. He’s only seen a handful of deaths, most when he was truly too young to even understand. There’s only been a few times that he’s had to dress in black suit and carry flowers; it’s so similar to a wedding that he swore before that he’d never marry.

Life is fragile, and he has a feeling that the life of the only person he really has left close to him is more fragile than most. Sometimes when he looks at the boy, made of rusted feathers, his stomach clenches and a chill racks him as he realises that he could _go_. He could die, if he were to stop being euphemistic about it. Daniel James Howell could die and God, he isn’t sure what he’d do if it wasn’t at least _possible_ for that boy to smile anymore.

And it’s not just Dan that’s fragile. Phil is too, with his pale shaking hands and his already fading eyesight and his moments of hopelessness and purposelessness. Even discounting all of that, he is human. Humans die. Humans are amongst the most temporary things in the universe and he could not bear the thought of leaving Dan alone in that mess of temporary narrative lines all strung and tangled together around a planet of suffering and discontent.

So he writes.

He writes until he starts to run out of ideas. He writes to tell Dan how to deal with how short the time is they currently get to spend together, he writes to give Dan help on the bad days, he writes to help Dan sleep, he writes to help if they ever fight, he writes to remedy Dan’s fears of the future, he writes to tell Dan the thousands of things that he loves about him, he writes to ask Dan to marry him.

He hopes that one will be opened after quite a few years. He knows it probably won’t be; Dan is so insecure about how much Phil loves him that Phil will spend hours simply lying there with him on a skype call, reassuring him time and time again that it’s okay, that Phil isn’t lying, that Phil sees the sun shine out of everything Dan does and says. Truthfully, Phil thinks the reason Dan doubts it is because Phil can’t even begin to put it all into words. The way Dan makes him feel warm inside, as if there’s some kind of radiation glowing within him, burning his insides to a crisp and making his heart and head throb from the heat.

It would be terrifying any other time, he imagines, to be burnt from the inside out.

And he is terrified. So terrified of the idea of Dan saying no to the question, of Dan saying _yes_ to the question. Weddings remind him too much of funerals, but the way Dan burns him reminds him too much of life, and he will happily make a funeral march down to an altar in the suit that he will be buried in if it means that he gets to stay with Dan for the rest of his life.

He doesn’t put the last letter than he writes in the pile for Dan.

~

“Fuck’s sakes Phil, where are you?”

“I’m on my way, don’t-”

“My brother is freaking the fuck out because-”

“Just start without us then,” Phil grumbles, his grip tightening around the phone as he runs around after the little boy whose laughter Dan must be able to hear resonate down the phone.

It only seems to make Dan angrier, considering the numerous expletives he growls out to Phil as Phil tries to catch the little boy and tie the bowtie around his neck. “I’m doing my best,”

“Why didn’t you just come down with me, dear God I knew you should have come down with me, why didn’t you listen to me?”

“Yeah, because waking our son up at an ungodly hour in the morning is a great idea when you actually want him to be conscious to carry the damn rings,” Phil snaps, raising his voice just enough to make Dan shut up.

His own advice to Dan years before pulses in the back of his mind. _Nothing will ever change between us, no matter what you do. I love you, and it’s pretty much unconditional, so don’t worry about me holding a grudge._

_He_ doesn’t hold grudges, he wasn’t lying. Not easily, at least. But Dan, Dan doesn’t forget things. If Phil is too late to Dan’s brother’s wedding, Dan will probably never forgive him for it.

“I’m coming, we’re leaving now,” Phil says to a line filled occupied with the buzz of thick static, his throat clamping up a little. He takes in a gulp of air to try and clear it, plastering a smile across his sweat stained face as he leans over the child and buttons up their seatbelt, his phone tucked up to his ear using his shoulder.

The static doesn’t budge, and Phil’s shaking hands misjudge where the belt plugs three times, leaving scrapings along the side of the black socket.

“Hurry up. Speed if you have to, I don’t care,” Dan mumbles eventually as Phil is clambering into his own seat.

“Fine, but-” he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before even the static cuts off.

The phone hits the dashboard. A small, curious hum from the backseat makes Phil halt his hands, which are half raised to slam down upon his knees.

He knows why Dan is so frustrated. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the wedding, as much as it has to do with the distinct lack of a wedding. The engagement band cuts into Phil’s finger as his fists clench in an attempt to keep a calm face as he glances over his shoulder and smiles back at the kid. The diamonds are like spikes some days, tying him temporarily to the boy who makes him warm but can also fling words that make him cold as ice.

His hands are on the steering wheel. He tries to steady his breathing a little, ignoring Dan’s advice to speed and taking his time instead to pull out of the small driveway.

This fight is his fault, not Dan’s. Dan might be the one shouting, as he always is, but Phil is the one that’s been putting off their wedding for nearly six years. Phil is the one that simply can’t face it. Weddings remind him too much of funerals, and he doesn’t ever want to witness Dan in a coffin.

There’s a squeal in the backseat when a lorry almost runs the red and flies straight into them. It stops just in time to miss them, but it’s too late, Phil can feel the bile crawling up the back of his neck from the damn rage and the fear and the sound of the crying of his little boy as he kicks open the driver’s door. He is nothing but shaking hands and terror as he screams at the driver, voice hoarse, and the woman looks back at him helplessly, her mouth lowered in shock.

Pain rips out through the bones in his feet as he kicks the garden wall nearest to him. It makes him stop, that pain. It pulls him back from watching his actions into living them, and he goes from observer to actor, taking his final bow at the end of the play.

He sighs, resting his hands on the wall and bowing his head. There are tears glistening in his eyes, and he feels as if he were sixteen again, running home crying and hiding from his parents because he didn’t want to have to tell them that some kid threw a slur at him again. If he didn’t give them excuses to ask questions, he figured that they never would.

The low humming of a vibration lets him know his phone is going off, and he draws in a sharp breath through his teeth, creating a well-pointed hiss. He turns around, the cars that are starting to gather round his own blurred in front of his eyes.

“Come on Phil, this is ridiculous-”

“Shut up,” Phil tries, but Dan is still going.

“You’re always late to everything! I don’t even know if you’re doing this on purpose anymore, you could be fucking lying to me about why you’re even late. This is so stupid, I fucking hate you sometimes,”

“Don’t you dare.”

“You even answered your damn phone, which means you aren’t driving! Either that or you’re fucking risking killing our kid, what the hell are you thinking, are you stupid?”

“Don’t you dare, Daniel Howell.” Phil feels himself choke on his words.

“God, you’re awful. First you fuck up our wedding plans, and now my brother’s!”

“Fuck off!” Phil whispers. He means for it to be a shout, he means for it to sound malicious, but it just sounds pathetic. “I hate you sometimes too.”

There’s another onslaught coming as Phil steps into the road again, ready to walk back to the car, but he doesn’t hear it. Instead, he hears another backseat squeal.

_~_

_‘Open when I’m gone.’_

_The meaning of this letter might mean different things to you and I. I wrote it last too, so it probably isn’t the most inspired of all of them. But I need you to know something._

_Nothing is permanent. Not you, not me, not anyone, not anything. And that, I know, sends you into a spin sometimes. That’s okay; it terrifies me too. Solutions can only be temporary just as much as problems can only be temporary, and sometimes it feels like the things that we love most are the most temporary._

_It’s okay, though. It’s really okay, I promise. I think if all things were permanent we’d all go insane._

_But I know that that philosophy isn’t exactly helpful at times like these. So I want you to close your eyes, and I want you to remember me. Remember all those stupid things that I used to do. And I know that doing that hurts, but don’t let that stop you. Because if you want me to be permanent, all you have to do is think about me. Think about me, Daniel James Howell, like I think about you every second of every day. You are my life, honestly. Shining light. You hold my shaking hands without even realising it and I kind of hope that you never read this because I don’t really want to admit to quite how much I rely on you. It’s not healthy, I know, but truly, is anything?_

_If I’m gone, I don’t want to be arrogant and assume that you’re sad sometimes about it, but perhaps if you are, you should try and remember the things I did that made you a little less sad sometimes. I’m a right idiot, I mean, I proposed to you in a letter, for crying out loud. There must be something silly that I’ve done that makes you laugh._

_There’s only so much I can even say. I’m not entirely sure what to say. I’ve spoken about philosophy, I’ve rambled about remembering me. I just want you to know how much I love you. I want you to open these letters sometimes and remember how much I love you. Even if I don’t say it enough – and I never could – I love you. I love you, Daniel James Howell. Thank you._

_Love, Phil._

**Author's Note:**

> one of those fics where i love the beginning and hate the rest of it but this has been too long in the works so i hope u liked it regardless <33


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